


Second Star to the Right

by paradiamond



Series: We Built Our Own World [1]
Category: Westworld (TV)
Genre: AU they don’t get caught by Logan, Bathing, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, The Maze™, William POV, William planning as he goes, cute while on the run, domestic fear camping, love spiral, ultimately leading to a William and Dolores escape the park AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-12
Updated: 2017-02-12
Packaged: 2018-09-23 21:11:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9677579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paradiamond/pseuds/paradiamond
Summary: William and Dolores miss Logan on the road, leading them down a different path.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Willoras canon divergence AU where they are not found by Logan. This is a coping mechanism and it’s not a problem because I know the fancy word for it.

“When I started out,” William mutters, mostly to himself, though Dolores is looking at him. He drops the bag and straightens up, hands on his hips. “I know I had a fire starting kit. But I think it got lost in the chaos.”

Dolores shakes her head fondly at him in the fading light. She’s still in her traveling clothes, the pants hugging her legs in a way that has him blushing and looking away when she squats down in his place, despite everything they’d already done. He doesn’t want to presume, doesn’t want her to think that he’s focused on sex when he’s supposed to be helping her. Less than a day ago she was lost in a trance, pointing a gun at her own head. He glances back and sees Dolores running her fingers over the wood they had found. 

“Lucky for us, I know what I’m doing. _Newcomer_ ,” she teases, a slight smile curving over her lips. William smiles back, pleased to see that she had regained some of her usual humor. 

William tries to help her, but she waves him off. “Having something to do with my hands helps me stay calm. You can prepare the food, if you want. This might take a while.” 

William nods again, eager to be of some use at least, and settles down against the stone wall. They’re in a cave, as far back as they can get. Trying to hide from the world. He shakes his head and picks up one of the two dead rabbits that William thinks were probably too easy to catch, the park providing for them and all that. It wouldn’t do to have hungry guests. He strokes his thumbs over the fabricated fur. At least it was polite enough to give one to Dolores too. 

Starting the fire and making dinner does take a while, but it’s good work, the kind that William enjoys. It’s nothing like sitting behind the desk, processing reports and wondering how it had only been two hours since lunch. He shakes his head, trying to banish the unfocused thought. But it’s like his head is full of bees, all whirling around and occasionally stinging, bringing him to some grim conclusion. 

“William?” 

He blinks and looks up, realizing all at once that he’d been sitting with the bowl of food in his hands, staring off into space. Worrying. 

Dolores is watching him. She’s so beautiful that it confuses him for a moment. He gets lost in her eyes, just like in a story. Then he shakes himself. 

“I was just thinking.” 

“Lost in thought? I can relate,” Dolores says, quietly teasing. Then she focuses. “About what?” 

William runs through his thoughts quickly, choosing a strand that she’s allowed to understand. 

“Just that my ethics professor would have a field day with this whole situation.” He smiles, and then pointedly looks away. “Also, that we’re in a cave.”

“Plato,” Dolores says, surprising him. 

William blinks, caught off guard. “Yeah.” 

“The shadows on the wall.” Dolores turns and looks at where the fire is casting their own shadows onto the stone. “Guiding us out of the trap we find ourselves in.” 

“All they had to do was stand up,” William says, building off her point. “Where did you learn about it?”

She frowns and looks back to him, her eyes wide. “I’m not sure.”

William nods, growing more sure that she’s different from the other hosts. Or worse, that she isn’t. 

“Memory can be a strange thing,” he says, carefully. 

She nods her head back, as though confiding a secret. “I know.” 

“Right,” William responds, slowly. It’s like the gears in his head are turning over, loud and rusted. “Everybody uses it differently though.” 

Dolores cocks her head. “Do you think so?” 

William sets the bowl down, the food forgotten. “Yeah. Some people see pictures, some people just have general impressions, words even.” 

“Must be strange.” 

“What?” 

“Not to remember very well.” Dolores shakes her head, her eyes going distant again. “I can’t imagine it. Not be able to picture my father’s face or…” 

William waits, but Dolores doesn’t pick the thread back up. She sits in silence for a few long minutes, the bowl still in her hands. William watches her, sure that he could take it from her without her even blinking, which she hadn’t done. It’s strange, even after everything they had been through, to think of her as human, but even more so to see that she isn’t, not really.

“Maybe you’re more than human,” he mutters, reaching forward to brush a strand of hair that had come loose back behind her ear. 

She finally blinks, and refocuses on him, smiling once again. Her hand comes up to catch his, holding it to her face. “I must look like such a mess.” 

“You don’t,” William says, honestly. “You look amazing.” 

Dolores shrugs him off, playing embarrassed, but he sees her smile under her hand. William wants to catch it, to hold it to his chest. But he keeps his hands to himself, aware of the importance of the conversation they need to have. He’s fairly sure that he can convince her of what they have to do by appealing to her rational side. She has a knack for order, and prides herself on her good sense. But she has also made a habit of surprising him. 

“What do you think about going back?” he asks, as casually as he can. 

She makes a face, like a ripple passing over water, gone as soon as it appeared. “Back?”

“To Sweetwater.” 

Dolores nods, but doesn’t look convinced. “If I look back, I’m afraid I’ll get lost.” 

“Maybe looking back is the only way to move forward.” 

She looks up. “What do you mean?” 

He shakes his head. “I wish...I should have done so much more research before coming to this place.” 

Dolores smiles, not her newcomer smile, but the softer one. “I’m not sure that would have helped.” 

“Me either, but it probably wouldn’t have hurt.” 

Dolores laughs and shakes her head. “Alright. But I still think that going back is a mistake.” 

“We don’t have to go all the way back to Sweetwater, but we need supplies, and better weapons if we’re going to make it.” He reaches up and tucks the same strand of her hair behind her ear, smiling. “I don’t want to lose you.” 

She nods. “I suppose that makes sense.” 

“And to your other point,” he says, settling back against the wall of the cave. “Haven’t you ever heard of retracing your steps? Looking at a situation with new eyes?” 

Dolores nods again, more resolutely this time. “Yes.” 

“Great,” William says, getting up with a sudden burst of energy. Having a plan helps, as it always does for him, and he cleans up like a whirlwind. Dolores follows behind, no doubt fixing little mistakes and making sure the fire doesn’t escape in the night and kill them, or worse, alert the Ghost Nation or Confederados to their presence. 

For a disconcerting moment, William realizes that he isn’t quite sure how to go about sleeping in a cave. In the end he just goes with his instincts, rolling up his outer shirt to act as a sort of pillow and laying down near the fire. The lack of supplies is another reason to go back, a pressing one. He doesn’t know how long the park will be generous with the rabbits, and clothes don’t grow out of the ground. 

Dolores settles down too, laying down against his chest without asking or hesitating, like she belongs there. Like he belongs to her. It sends a shock through his system that quickly turns into a simmering warmth. William run his fingers through her hair, breathing in her scent as they fall asleep. 

***

It’s eerily quiet on the lesser used trails they’re taking back to Sweetwater. William walks side by side with Dolores as they slowly picking their way through the trees and bushes. The only other people they had seen had been from a distance, and they seemed to be visitors like him, just out on their own adventure. He and Dolores had hunkered down in the shrub and waited for them to pass anyway. So far, nothing had bothered them, but he’s trying to stay vigilant. 

He casts a glance over to Dolores, who seems more relaxed than she had been the day before. She catches him looking and smiles, turning her face away. “Why are you different?” 

William almost trips. “What?”

Spots of color appear high on Dolores’ cheeks, and she’s pretty even when she’s embarrassed. “I just meant that you seem different from most of the other newcomers.” 

He smiles, warmth bubbling up in his chest. “I’m not different, I think I’m just not behaving like an animal.” 

“No, it’s more than that,” Dolores says, turning to look at him again. “You see me. And you saw that poor soldier dying by the river. I don’t wish to speak ill of the dead, but your friend Logan seemed like he never saw anyone. He just looked right through them.” 

William looks away, torn between wanting to admit that he had killed that soldier and just taking the compliment. She wouldn’t understand that the soldier was just going to be brought back. He can’t explain it to her, not yet. Before he makes a decision, another thought occurs to him, and he stops dead, startling Dolores. 

“Logan isn’t dead.” 

Dolores stops too and frowns, two steps ahead of him now. “William...I think that he is.” 

“No I mean-” William shakes his head. “There is a strong possibility that he survived. I’m almost certain.” 

She closes the distance between them and lays a hand on his arm. “I know he was your friend. But William, he was taken. It’s not your fault, you made the right choice.” 

William nods, frustrated by yet another thing he can’t explain to her. “Right. Ok. Either way, I think we need to be careful.” 

Dolores smiles. “We are being careful.” 

“I know,” he says, slowly. Will Logan be after him? Possibly. It’s either that or he’ll have written him off entirely. Doubtful. 

William raises his arms to hold Dolores’ shoulders, charmed by how she leans into his touch. The sharp gleam of intelligence in her eyes is betrayed by her confusion, making her crack and freeze. But she had seemed better all day, and yesterday when they were in the cave, even though they hadn’t really moved. He bites the inside of his lip nervously, wondering if his theory about her being too far out was true after all. They have to be so careful, especially now. 

“Going back to Sweetwater might not be the best idea,” William says finally, and Dolores’ eyes light up. “Logan, or someone else, will be looking for us on that road.” 

Dolores nods, the drive to discover right at the surface. “So let’s pick a different one.” 

She pulls him to sit down on a fallen log, a little too conveniently placed along the path to be natural. There are always places to sit in the shade, small streams for water that never makes them sick, even food. Features like it betray the park for what it is, a construction. William strokes his fingers over the bark, thinking. 

“Alright, what if we go sideways instead of back? Is there anywhere-” 

“Yes. There’s a town we can stop at for supplies that’s west of here. It’s not far.” 

“A town?” 

Dolores shrugs. “A small one. More like a stop, really. It’s called Wayside.”

William laughs, shaking his head. “Wow they really went literal with that one. Wayside? And I thought Pariah was on the nose.” 

Dolores laughs, her voice musical and high. “Well what else should it be? Things should be called what they are.” 

“I guess you’re right.” William nods. “That will work. We can slip Logan entirely and resupply before heading back out.” 

“Back where?”

William reaches over and touches her face. “Back out to find what you’re looking for.” 

***

Getting supplies from Wayside is way too easy considering they don’t have any money. It’s pretty clear that it’s not a town frequented by the more hardcore visitors to the park, but rather the families and vacationers who just want to see some pretty scenery and ride a horse. They trade a few hours of easy work at the local tavern for new clothes, packs, and a night at the inn. It’s yet another jarring reminder that it’s all just part of the game. 

Dolores, of course, doesn’t notice. It makes William question himself, wondering if she really was just too far out and it doesn’t jive with her programming. But then he remembers that she has no reason to think otherwise, she has always lived in the park. It’s the big things she’s noticing now, not the little inconsistencies. 

William watches her as they work. She stays focused, pleasantly greeting guests and serving drinks. William is playing bartender, though the host who usually does it is still there and making most of the drinks. Dolores comes to William every few seconds in her new pink and white dress to pick up orders, letting their fingers touch and smiling as though they’re getting away with something. There’s not much sign of her previous turmoil. Back at the ruins, Dolores asked William if he was real. She shouldn’t be able to do that, to even wonder about the nature of her reality. 

The longer he watches her, the more certain he gets. They need to get out, but they can’t just slip back into Sweetwater and get on a train. The people that run the park will never let them go, not without help. It’s a problem, one that William knows he needs to solve. 

He doesn’t solve it then, despite the welcome mindlessness of the work. It’s frustrating, but he buries it when they’re released from work by a pleasant host and guided to their room. Dolores goes straight for the window, smiling and leaning on the window sill to look out. William looks after her, barely noticing the attendant at his back. 

“Sir?” 

He turns. “Sorry, yes?” 

The girl smiles, all prettiness and vacant eyes. “Would you like a bath brought to your room?” 

William looks over his shoulder at Dolores, who nods eagerly, her eyes wide with wanting. He looks back, smirking. “Yes please.” 

When it comes, it’s a metal tub being carried by three men who William suspects don’t have a lot else programmed for them. They don’t speak even when Dolores thanks them, simply setting the bath down with an off putting ease and disappearing again. The tub is big, but definitely not big enough for two people. Dolores trails her fingers in the water and smiles. 

“Ladies first,” William says, sweeping his arm dramatically and immediately feeling like an idiot. Lucky for him Dolores laughs. 

“Are you sure? I think you need it more than I do.” 

“Which is why you should go first, so you’re not sitting in dirt,” he says, and walks over the basin of water on the dresser to wash his face and arms. He doesn’t really want to sit in dirt either. It takes the edge off, making him feel more human. 

William turns back around and sees Dolores slip her dress over her head. He swallows, mouth dry, and turns around, facing the wall. “Do you need any help?” 

A giggle drifts up from behind him, and then her arms are winding around his waist and soft lips touch the back of his neck. Dolores leans closer, her lips near his ear. “Isn’t it a bit late to be shy?”

“Probably,” he cranes his head to look back at her. “I was just- I didn’t want to assume-” 

Dolores cuts him off with a light kiss, brushing her lips over his to quiet him. William hums and kisses her back, turning around in her arms. She’s still wearing her underclothes, which involve an entire other dress and stockings. He runs his tongue along the seam of her lips and she opens her mouth, inviting him in for a long moment before pulling away. He tries to follow, leaning forward to catch her lips again, his hands holding her up by her back, but she puts a finger to his lips. 

William turns his head. “Don’t want the water to get cold?”

“That’s right,” she nods, smiling, and turns away, slipping the underdress over her head as she goes. 

William watches this time, enthralled. She pulls her stockings off absently and steps into the water, naked, without a mark on her. She disappears as she sinks beneath, reemerging a moment later with her hair sleek and stuck to her back. William steps to the side to sit on the bed, still looking. He’d seen her before, but in the dark of the train and the heat of the moment. It’s somehow more intimate in the light of day.

Dolores sighs, settling back into the water. “Still offering help?”

He quirks an eyebrow at her. “Yes.” 

She smiles, leaning against the side of the tub with her arms crossed. “Would you be willing to help wash my hair?” 

“Yes ma’am.” William gets back up, eager to put his hands on her again. He can still feel her lips on the back of his neck, her fingers touching him through his shirt, not enough. Dolores watches him approach, amusement in her eyes. She’s different in here, in the relative safety of the town, more relaxed, and more mischievous. He’d only ever seen her in various states of distress, always running from something. It’s nice to see her at peace. 

William pulls the chair from the desk to sit behind her. The soap they’ve been given is plain, but William can’t imagine Dolores going in for fancy lotions and scents anyway. She hadn’t even flinched when they gave her the pants and shirt to change into. A farm girl, he thinks, smiling to himself as he rolls his sleeves up. 

Dolores leans forward helpfully so he can gather her hair up, running his fingers through it where he can. Wet, it’s much less cooperative, but he soon finds that the soap helps. William nods to himself, focusing on his task. He can’t think of a time when he ever would have done this in his normal life. The idea of even being in this situation with any of his former girlfriends is strange. No one takes baths to get clean anymore. He remembers, vaguely, his college girlfriend Amanda taking over the bathroom to take a bath with fancy gels and soaps she had gotten as a present, but she had put her hair up so it wouldn’t get wet. It makes him wonder what Dolores would think of the shower, of the many differences in his world. 

William makes a cup with his hand to bring some more water up to the top of Dolores’ head, making bubbles from the soap. He works it into her head, massaging her scalp. Dolores hums, apparently pleased. The soap and water run down his arms, getting on his pants. William ignores it, focused as he is on his task. It’s an odd pleasure, the sensation of caring for someone so literally. William works until he’s satisfied that her hair is completely clean of all the stress and strain of the road, brought back to it’s usual state. 

“Rinse,” he says, and almost doesn’t recognize his own voice. Startled, he clears his throat as Dolores sinks down, back into the water so that only her face stays above it. William follows her down, leaning forward with his arms hooked over the rim of the tub so he can work the soap back out. The bubbles spread out in the water, floating gently around her face. Dolores seems utterly relaxed, breathing evenly as he runs his fingers through her hair. They go through easily now, and he reveals in the feeling, spending probably more time than necessary in rinsing her hair out. 

“Alright,” William calls her, giving her a tap on the shoulder so she can sit back up. His other hand stays wrapped in her hair. He doesn’t want to let her go. 

Dolores opens her eyes and shifts, prompting William to pull his arms back, settling back in his chair. He sets his hands on his thighs, the water soaking them through. He shivers, watching Dolores sit all the way up. 

“Thank you William.” 

“Any time.”

She tilts her head back, resting it against the curved metal so she can see him. Her hair is caught beneath her, between the tub and her neck. William itches to touch it again, to touch her. She smiles at him, apparently reading his mind. 

“Can I have a kiss?” 

For a heartbeat, William doesn’t move, too caught in the moment. Then he catches up with her, and leans forward. He presses his lips gently to hers, upside down. It’s unreal, a fantasy. Dolores is warm, her cheeks flushed from the heat of the water. William wants to keep going, to submerge himself in the water with her and never come out. 

When he pulls away, Dolores sighs and keeps her head where it is, watching him. She blinks up at him lazily. “I should get out.” 

William looks down at her, the water just brushing her tops of her breasts when she breathes. “Why?” 

Dolores braces her hands on the side of the tub and pulls herself up, the water dripping down her body and completely distracting William from what she’s saying. “The water is starting to lose some of it’s warmth. I don’t want to make you take a cold bath.” 

She puts her hand out, hovering in the air. William blinks and then reaches up quickly so she can take his, using it to steady herself as she gets out of the tub. Dolores smiles at him, tilting her head to the side and over the tub to wring her hair out. William watches, mesmerized as the water falls back down and Dolores flips her hair back over her shoulder. 

Mouth dry, he reaches for her, but she waves him off with a smile. “You should get clean.”

“I know I _should_.” 

“William,” she teases, wrapping herself up in a towel brought by the other hosts. “We have time.” 

He nods and strips off his shirt, suddenly cold. They don’t have time, not really. Not unless he makes it. 

William takes his bath quickly while Dolores gets redressed and putters about the room, repacking their bags, braiding her hair. He watches her, wondering if he could ever get bored of it. If he’ll ever get the chance to find out. 

He’s mechanically washing his own hair when an errant thought occurs to him, something he had been meaning to ask her. “Hey Dolores?” 

“Yes?” she asks, without looking up, her focus caught by something on his new shirt. 

“Who’s Arnold?”

Dolores stops, her gaze still caught on whatever had her attention, but her eyes look beyond it. Then she blinks, and looks up at him. “I don’t know.” 

William keeps washing his hair, regretting the question and trying not to bother her again. “It’s not a big deal. I was just wondering, you talk about him a lot.” 

“I suppose you’re right,” Dolores says, slowly. 

William put his hands down, trailing them in the water. “You miss him.” 

“Yes.” Dolores looks up, sudden pain evident in her eyes. “It’s all I have left. But I can’t remember why.” 

William’s heart catches in his throat and he leans back, rushing to get the soap out of his hair enough so he can get out. When he sits back up, Dolores is still looking at him, but she seems calmer. “You alright?” 

She nods, stiffly. “Yes. Thank you.” 

“‘Course,” he mutters, still concerned, and hauls himself up and out of the tub. Dolores watches him, looking smaller than he knows she is as he frantically dries himself off and throws on his pants. When he reaches for the shirt he stripped off and dropped on the back of the chair, Dolores jumps up, looking visibly offended. 

“You just got clean,” she admonishes him, a nervous light in her eye. 

William laughs and tosses the old shirt away. She has his new one clenched in her hand. “Sorry, I-” 

Dolores grabs him by the back of the neck and pulls him forward, her mouth meeting his with a jolt. William startles, blinking wildly as Dolores closes her eyes and runs her tongue along the seam of his lips, just like he had done. Never one to look a gift horse in the mouth, William curls his arm around Dolore’s back and pulls her to him, opening his mouth to her in the sweetest surrender he had ever tasted. 

He puts his hands in her hair again, a primal satisfaction taking over. The residual sexual tension from before flares back to life as Dolores slides her tongue against his, lighting up at the base of his spine and spreading out through his chest. He throws himself into kissing her, matching her push for pull. Dolores grips at his face, slides her hands down to her bare chest, feels over his back. She’s never still, never calm. She tastes like fear, and still has her eyes closed. 

William rubs his hand across her back soothingly, trying to gentle the kiss. He closes his mouth, trying to slow his pace, but Dolores won’t let him. There’s a desperate edge to her that William doesn’t like. She doesn’t feel right. He slides his hand up to the side of her neck and feels her heart hammering under his hand. There are dark patches on her dress from the bath water. He pulls her off of him, gently. 

“Hey,” William calls to her, quietly. 

Dolores fists her hands against his skin. She won’t look at him. William kisses the edge of her mouth, softly this time. 

“Hey. It’s alright. We have time.”

Spots of color appear high on Dolores' cheeks, and she nods, pushing the new shirt into his hands. William takes it and presses a kiss to her forehead before slipping it on, trying to reassure her. Dolores stands in front of him, clearly waiting. He tucks it in, watching her curiously, but gets his answer as soon as he’s done in the form of Dolores stepping forward to wrap her arms around his waist. William catches his breath and copies her immediately, pulling her in close and tight. Dolores makes a small, satisfied sound, and buries her face in her neck so he can’t see her. 

William strokes his hands over her back lightly. “Sure you’re alright?” 

Dolores sighs and tips her head down so her forehead is resting against his collarbone. “No. I’m not sure of anything anymore.” 

“You can be sure of me,” William says, and hopes it true. He doesn’t feel particularly sturdy at the moment, not with the door at his back and Logan still out there. Not with Dolores frighteningly still in his arms. But she’s strong, more so than he could have imagined, and he can try. 

After a long moment, Dolores steps back and bushes her palms over her dry cheeks. She fixes a smile on her face. “Sorry. I’m not usually so…” 

William nods. “I know, and don’t worry about it. It’s my fault anyway, for dragging out all the way out here.” And for asking about Arnold, William adds privately, but he doesn’t want to bring him up again. 

“I don’t think so,” Dolores says, bringing her hand up to card her fingers through his still damp hair. “Besides, I’m glad to have met you no matter what.” 

He smiles at her. “Are you hungry?” 

She blinks. “I suppose.” 

“Food is good for stuff like this.” 

Dolores smiles again, this time for real, and William relaxes. 

He doesn’t feel like bringing her back out into the wider world, not yet, and thankfully Dolores seems to feel the same. William sticks his head out the door and a hosts spots him in seconds, coming to take their order and bringing it by within a few minutes. William takes it from him, wondering if hotels in the 1800s even had room service. Probably not. 

***

The sky starts to darken as they eat at the small table, quietly talking about nothing. Books, family. Easy stuff. Necessary as he knows it it, William is loath to ask her anything difficult. 

“What stories did your parents read to you when you were young?” Dolores asks, the simple food between them mostly finished. She looks better, the haunted look gone from her eyes. 

William cocks his head. “My mother liked classics. You know, fairy tales. Peter Pan, Alice in Wonderland, that sort of thing.” 

Dolores mimics him, her braid slipping over her shoulder. “Curiouser and curiouser,” she says, and smiles. 

William blinks. “Yeah.” Certain that book hadn’t come out yet, not in her time. 

There’s a knock on the door, startling both of them. William’s hand drops down to his belt on instinct, though he’s not wearing the gun. A little shaken, he gets up and goes to the door, but it’s only the same host, come to collect their dishes. Dolores stands and gathers then up, handing them to William smoothly, as though they did this sort of thing all the time. William passes them off and shuts the door again, locking it for good measure. It won’t keep anyone they really need to be afraid of out for long, but it might be enough to give them some warning. 

When he turns around, Dolores has moved to the bed, her legs drawn up and her arms wrapped around her knees. 

She lifts her chin when she sees him looking. “I’m sorry for, um, attacking you. Earlier.” 

William smiles, helpless, and walks over to sit down on the bed next to her. “It’s ok. You can attack me like that any time.” 

Dolores shakes her head, a flush building in her cheeks again. “You don’t have to tease me.” 

“I’m not. Well, I sort of am. But you really can attack me whenever you want. I was just worried you were doing it to try to get out of your head, or something.” 

“Or something,” Dolores repeats, quietly. She brings her hand up to trail along his side, following a rib. William looks down, watching her move in the rapidly dimming light. On impulse, he catches her hand in his, drawing his thumb over her palm. She curls her fingers closed, holding him there. “I didn’t know it was going to be like this.” 

“What?”

“Changing my life,” Dolores says, almost too quietly to be heard, and her fingers tighten even further. She’s strong, William doesn’t know if he could pull away if he tried. He doesn’t bother to find out, leaning forward instead to catch her lips, turning his face to better match her, the motion now achingly familiar.

Dolores hums and leans in, matching him move for move. She presses herself close, curling in on him. Heat starts to build in William’s stomach, a slow arch moving through his veins, adding to the sensation of Dolores gripping at his shirt. 

On the train they had rushed, pulling at each other, tearing off clothes. He’d had her in a pile of nets and blankets on the floor, her legs wrapped around his hips as he drove into her, chasing her to climax. Dolores had panted in his ear, egging him on as she drew her nails down his back, scrabbling at the last second so as not to hurt him. William revealed in it, but he loved the slow moments the best. Leaning down to press a kiss to her collarbone, feeling her fingers slide up the back of his shirt, Dolores giggling when they slipped and tumbled to the floor. 

Dolores pulls away first, her pupils blown wide and dark. There’s only a little ring of color around the outer edge, the copy so real William can hardly believe it. The flush in her cheeks, the rise and fall of her chest. Everything is perfectly in sequence, almost suspiciously so, but the look in her eyes is true. The way she tracks his movements as he pushes her down to lie on the bed and then slides down, placing himself between her legs. It’s real. 

She watches him with unrestrained excitement as he slides her dress up her legs, taking his time for both of them. There’s nothing under it but the loose pants she wears for underwear which he pulls off right away, throwing them off to the side with a flourish, trying to make her laugh. Dolores smiles, pulling her right leg up to bend at the knee, her dress pooled at her waist, exposing herself. William inhales sharply and refocuses his attention, all whimsey forgotten. He leans in to a presses a kiss to the juncture between her hip and thigh, and the sensation of being so close so casually is dizzying. 

“I didn’t get a chance to do this before,” he mutters, running his hand along the sensitive skin of her inner thigh. She soft everywhere, but he it’s especially obvious. Then he hooks her knee and hoists it a little higher. Dolores squeaks but doesn’t respond, too preoccupied with watching him reach up to part her, sliding his fingers carefully to make sure she’s comfortable. This part is familiar, feeling her against his hand, around his fingers, but he pulls away, eager to try new things. 

Part of him expected her to taste different, all the human imperfections chased away and replaced with some pornographic mix of scents and unoffensive florals, but she doesn’t. She’s probably unusually clean from just being in the bath, but she tastes like a woman. William runs his tongue from her opening to her clit and back down, getting them both acclimated, and groans when she slides her finger into his hair. 

Emboldened, William hooks her right leg over his shoulder and pushes her left further out, making more space. Dolores wiggles down and stretches her leg further, panting slightly but always helpful. William smiles into her skin, charmed even now. It’s ridiculous, he’s ridiculous and apparently still a teenager, but she warms him from the inside, fanning the flames to a roar every time. He wants to pay it back, to give her everything too, so he slides his tongue back up slowly, listening for her response, and then draws it over her clit. Dolores moans lowly, her voice down an octave from it’s usual range, so he does it again, then again. 

He flutters his tongue against her, back and forth, not wanting to overstimulate her. Women had complained to him in the past of his overeager nature, the drive to simply find the right button and push, even to the point of pain. This time he hold himself still, paying attention to her breathing, her hand which had slid down to his shoulder. Her fingers clench on his shirt sporadically, making him notice that he’s still wearing it, and that she’s still in her dress. Dolores’ breathing takes on a ragged edge, so he slips two fingers into her, the slide so easy it makes him dizzy with her wanting. He wants her too, so badly he throbs just at the thought. 

Dolores rolls her hip, chasing him. William seals his lips over her clit and sucks, taking the risk, and curls is fingers at the same time. It pays off, and when she comes she clamps down on his fingers, almost to the point of pain. William had felt that same moment on his cock only a few days ago, and the memory has him panting into her thigh, his face turned away as he struggles not to simply rut against the bed like an animal. But the moment passes, and he cranes his neck to look up at Dolores, still breathing hard but looking down on him with a smile. 

William smiles back and forces himself up. His arms are shaking a bit from the strain and arousal, but he hauls himself up to lay next to her, settling down lazily and half on top of her shoulder. Dolores cranes her neck to kiss him, the press of her lip against his unhurried. William hums and kisses her back, deepening it without thinking. Dolores gasps and pulls away, eyes wide. 

“Oh,” she says, smiling. Her hand jumps up, fingers brushing against her lips. 

William laughs. “Sorry.” 

She shakes her head. “It’s alright.” Then she leans in to kiss him again, this time sliding her tongue along his bottom lip, as though chasing the taste, curiosity apparently overriding doubt. It makes William’s head spin, sending him back down into the quiet burning he had felt between her legs, but without the press of urgency. He just wants to feel her, to have her touch him. Right now they have time, possibly for the last time, and he wants to experience all of it. 

Dolores doesn’t seem to feel the need to rush either, living in the moment she’s in. She trails her hand down his chest, absently at first, and then with purpose, pulling away so she can strip his shirt off. William helps, and then leans down to pull off his pants. 

“Do you want-”

“Yes,” she answers, before disappearing into her dress, struggling it off of herself. William laughs and reaches over to help, but she fixes it before he’s needed, suddenly revealing her to him again, her hair in disarray, the braid already falling apart. There’s a slight flush on her chest, spreading from her neck. She’s smiling, but the look of her hits William right in the chest. 

He reaches out and pulls the strap Dolores had used to tie off the end of the braid, undoing it. She tilts her head, helping him to unwind it, pulling her hair back out and over her shoulders. William licks his lips, catching her by the back of the neck to pull her to him. She sighs into his mouth and crawls towards him, putting them flush together, finally skin to skin. William presses forward, and she goes back, laying down on the bed, with her hair spread out behind her. He reaches out and runs his fingers through it, the bath coming back to him in a wave, the sensual feeling of her trust. He wants it again, never wants to let it go. 

William settles himself over her, braced with anticipation. He looks down her body, the endless expanse of skin. She’s paler than him, and the contrast of his hand on her stomach, sliding up to her breast is compelling. Even more so is the way she arches into him, putting more of it into his grasp. A shiver runs up his spine and William lowers himself all the way, pressing them together from ankle to chest so he can kiss her neck. Dolores shivers too, her hands tracing along the line of his spine and back up, hooking just under his shoulders. She rolls her hips against his, sliding her knees farther apart, a perfect design. They fit together like two pieces of the same machine. 

He drags his head back up, making himself focus as he reaches down to move her leg, pulling it up and out. Dolores helps, shifting her hips up to meet him as he presses in, and letting out a deep sigh when he slides as far as he can go. “That’s good.” 

“Yeah?” William breathes back, his voice almost caught in the back of his throat. Her fingers tighten on his skin, reassuring. She nods, her eyes bright. 

He raises up on his arms and has her slow, more rocking against her than thrusting, determined to drive her insane. Dolores breathes with him, matching him with every little roll of her hips, drawing it out of him. It burns low in his blood, making his face flush and his arms shake where they’re holding him up. After a while he gives up and lowers himself down, wanting to feel her skin again. 

William presses his face into her neck, half afraid that she’ll laugh at him for being like this, but of course she doesn’t. What she does do is roll them to the side, sliding her leg smoothly over his hip, taking some of the leverage for herself. They rock back and forth, mouths close together, not kissing but breathing the same air. In the fading light it reminds William of the romance novels he used to read, but he can feel Dolores’ sweat under his hand, and hear the crude sounds of them moving against each other, breaking the fantasy into pieces and reshaping it into something better. 

He grips at her lower back, pulling her in tightly as they gradually pick up speed. Dolores tips her head back, eyes closed and lets out a quiet sigh, just barely audible. William leans his head down to press a kiss to her neck, exposed and waiting for him, and she jumps, her hand tightening on his thigh. She rolls her hips, abruptly breaking their rhythm, and William shudders, almost surprised when he comes. It had built so slowly, so naturally, he hadn’t even noticed where she had taken him. 

William rolls onto his back, dazed. Dolores follows, curling her arm around his waist and pulling him close. He hums and wraps his arm around her shoulder, settling his hand against her back, feeling safer than he actually is. 

“Was that- did you?” 

She smiles against his skin. “You don’t remember?”

It startles a laugh out of him. “Well yeah, but-” 

Dolores leans up and presser her lips against his, a light but effective message. “Go to sleep.” 

William smiles back at her. “Alright. Let’s get under the sheets though.” 

They shuffle around, William pulling back the sheets and tossing the few clothing items that had stayed on the bed over to the chair while Dolores slips her underdress back over her head and settles back down, this time with her back to him. William embraces the position, hooking his arm around her shoulders again to hold her close, but stays on his back to stare at the ceiling. 

As they’re drifting away, he has a brief, long honed and reflexive fear that he could get her pregnant before realizing that he actually can’t. He frowns up at the ceiling. It’s strange. He tightens his hold on her, preoccupied with the knowledge that there’s so much he doesn’t know, doesn’t understand. Next to him, her breathing evens out, slipping into sleep. He glances down at her, running through everything he knows. Dolores is different, that much is clear. She remembers past versions of herself, she creates new things instead of simply mirroring existing ones. He bites the inside of his lip, nervous again, and is suddenly hit with the fear that he’s isn’t doing the right thing. 

It feels like a black hole opening up in his stomach, threatening to suck them both in. He fights to keep his breathing even while a million unanswered question churn in his mind. What if he isn’t helping her? What if she hates being out of the park? What if she wants children? Even if he can get her out and she decides to stay with him, he can never give her that. Fear grips him, the weight of the decision. Responsibility. He hears the word in his father’s voice, taunting him. Maybe she would be better off with her trapped family, all of them happy and believing that they have a future. William makes a fist with his free hand, balling up the sheet next to him in an effort to keep calm. 

“William?” 

He looks down and see Dolores glancing over her shoulder at him. She smiles, and he tries to smile back. “Yeah?”

Dolores blinks, apparently unconvinced. “You have to relax. Logan won’t find us here.” 

William nods, doing a better job at being convincing. “I’ll try.” 

Dolores nods and turns back around, understanding the big picture without the details. William keeps watching her, an understanding creeping into his mind. It’s up to her. She has to decide what it to do, and he has to give her that chance. That’s his role. He can offer her a hand, but she has to decide to take it. 

He can give her more time. It’s not the most heroic course of action, but William has always been good at keeping his head down, staying out of the spotlight. They’ll go out into the woods, stay off the main roads and keep the park people from coming for her. They’ll find more caves if they have to and make the time for Dolores to sort through herself. He can keep her safe. 

“We should leave tomorrow,” William says, not knowing if she’s still awake or not. 

Dolores hums. “To go where?” 

William tightens his arms around her, thinking. “Maybe we should go back to that place you brought us to.” 

She shivers, but nods again. “I need to go back.” 

“We’ll be prepared this time, take it slow.” 

Dolores is quiet for a long moment. “William I- I don’t know what I’m looking for.” 

William presses a kiss to her hair, the soft scent of the plain soap setting his nerves at ease. He’s pretty sure he knows now, but it’s up to her to find it. “Then it’s a good thing we have time.”


End file.
